Ah yes, when one has slumber’d over long,
The birds of memory refuse their song.
[Laying his hand on Lind’s shoulder, with an ironical look.
You, Lind, slept sound last night, I guarantee?
Lind.
And long. I went to bed in such depression,
And yet with such a fever in my brain,
I almost doubted if I could be sane.
Falk.
Ah yes, a sort of witchery, you see.